


If it wasn't for you

by ChocoNut



Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [28]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drunken Confessions, F/M, Fluff, diverges in season 4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24507952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoNut/pseuds/ChocoNut
Summary: One night after dinner with the Lannister brothers, Brienne gets a bit too drunk. When Jaime escorts her to her chambers, confessions accidentally come tumbling out.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth
Series: Tales of love (Season 3/4) [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1483640
Comments: 19
Kudos: 116





	If it wasn't for you

**Author's Note:**

> A break from smut, here's some tooth-rotting fluff.  
> Thank you for reading and enjoy :)

“Time to retire to bed,” Tyrion announced with a yawn, getting up to indicate they do the same. “Lady Brienne, are you sure you’d be able to get to your chambers without help--”

“I’ll escort her.” With the copious amount of wine running through her bloodstream, Jaime wasn’t too certain she could manage. 

Tyrion, stone drunk and grinning at the two of them, had a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “Very well.”

As soon as they had exchanged their parting pleasantries, Jaime led her out and towards the staircase. They walked in silence, slowly, Brienne, measuring every step she took, and Jaime, mulling over the turn his life had taken after his return. With time, people changed. Like his sister.

_Like Brienne._

She missed a step and he steadied her with a firm grip on her arm, chuckling to himself at the effect a few drinks could have on one of the most formidable warriors he knew. A handful of assailants, she could deftly handle, but when it came to too much consumption of wine, this was the weakest, most vulnerable he’d seen of her. More than once, that evening, she’d been driven to the verge of tears at the reference to her deceased siblings, the way she’d been sidelined by society and the awful treatment she’d had to undergo at the hands of her septa. He recalled their first morning together when she’d refused to speak a word about herself or her family, but now, she had gone on to pour her heart out and divulge things she’d never disclosed before. The sober Brienne would never speak of it, that he was certain of. She would put on a stoic face, continue to don her armour and go about her life and her duty as if it didn’t matter at all.

But this Brienne, this new side of her he’d been a witness to tonight, had nearly broken down. And Jaime didn’t want to let her wander the Keep in this state. What if she lost her way and ended up someplace she wasn't supposed to be? What if she ran into one of Cersei’s handmaidens, who, if Jaime had read his sister’s intentions correctly, would spare no effort to tail her, to note and report everything about her. 

From the minute he’d arrived home, his doubting twin had been wary of his friendship with his former captor, studying every move, questioning even the slightest gesture of kinship he extended towards her. At one of the dinners the wench had worn a dress, and when Cersei had caught him staring at her in admiration, lost in how the blue of her garment brought out her eyes, she had spent a good few minutes arguing, pointing out that he’d probably grown bored of her and craved for another to warm his bed. Another time, she had accused him of going soft on her, mincing no words to make it known to him that had it not been for the _ugly cow,_ he’d still have a hand. He’d still be a knight.

He threw a furtive look at the drunk woman on his arm. If he hadn’t done what his sister had accused him of, she would’ve been at the mercy of those bastards, brutally raped and assaulted, or worse still, mauled to death by that beast, a feast for the crows.

_You love her…_

Cersei’s words kept ringing in his ears long after she’d accused his heart of bringing in another woman, haunting him day and night, taunting him. He had denied it that day, put her off by dodging the subject. But how long would he be able to keep running away from what he truly desired?

He glanced at her again.

_I love her…_

But did he have the courage to say it to her face? “We’ve arrived,” he murmured, instead, only now noticing that they were at her doorstep. 

She didn’t answer, her eyes boring into his as she began working on the doorknob, struggling and fighting to get it open, fumbling so badly that he deemed it necessary to assist. “Let me--” 

But by the time he could take charge, the door swung open and she stumbled, no coordination between her brain, her hand and her legs.

On an impulse, he sprang closer to grab her by the waist. “I’ve got you.”

His heartbeat peaking to a irregularly loud rhythm he was certain would be audible to anyone within a few feet of them, they stood at the threshold, locked in an embrace more intimate than he had ever held Cersei in their wildest moments of passion. His mind numbed to all but the woman in his arms, he was lost in Brienne, drunk in her drunken eyes, his chest grazing her breasts. _I love you,_ he wanted to say, to kiss her senseless and drink in the wine on her tongue, to take her to bed this instant and make her his, but the only words he could muster were a stuttering, “C--Come on in.”

He led her to the bed, his gaze still linked to hers, his fingertips kissing her waist, his body pressed into hers. Countless emotions ripped him apart, overwhelming him, and more than a countless sensations exploded within him, attacking every part of him, the coordination between his body and brain, now, as weak as hers.

“It’s all because of me,” she said suddenly, voice low, her eyes bearing a shadow over them when he sat her down. “If it wasn’t for me, you’d still have a hand.”

Jaime took a seat beside her. “If it wasn’t for you, I’d still be the Kingslayer, a man without honour.”

Unconvinced and sullen, she went on. “You returned to Harrenhal despite your dire need to be with your sister. If it wasn’t for--”

“If it wasn’t for my tryst with that bear, I couldn’t have gone on living with myself.” He placed a reassuring hand on her knee, and she twitched, a faint blot of colour invading her cheeks. “If you had been raped or killed--”

“I love you, Jaime.”

Like a blow to the guts, it hit him, knocking the wind out of his lungs, and eyes wide, he gaped at her, wondering if he’d heard her right. _Jaime,_ she’d called him, not Ser Jaime, and inebriated, though she was, the unmistakable affection in her eyes told him that it was the purest and most innocent form of the truth. 

Just like her. The ultimate truth of his life. Something he’d realized only recently.

But before he could reply, she shrank back into a corner, abashed. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled, suddenly sounding sober and thoroughly flustered, her face, a bright red, her gaze, dropping to her lap. “I shouldn’t have just--”

“If it wasn’t for you, Brienne,” he broke in, shifting closer to get a deeper view of those lovestruck, shy eyes, “I would still be in love with Cersei.”

Her eyes snapping back up to meet his, she blinked, now her turn to pelt him with a questioning look, disbelieving, doubting if her ears were deceiving her.

And then, on an instinct, Jaime did something to alleviate her questions, something he ought to have done long back, something his heart had been nudging him in the direction of, right from the day he’d jumped into that wretched pit for her.

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

And it felt like all the wrongs against him had been righted at once. The world was a better place, and even better than that, was the garland of her arms around his neck, the melody of her lips humming the same tune as his, the sweet seduction of her body pressing into his. Wine had never tasted better, and for the first time, he was soaring, floating on a cloud far above with her, no Cersei, no Locke, no Roose Bolton… no one to wreck their happiness and this blissful moment of their union. 

For the first time, he felt wanted. Loved.

“I must leave now,” he said reluctantly, pressing his forehead to hers, her cool, damp skin on his, tying him to her, binding him, urging him to stay back and indulge in more than just a few romantic words declaring his love. “But I’ll see you again tomorrow.”

He made to get up, but she stopped him, her hand curling around his wrist, cuffing him to her, her liquid eyes tugging at his heart and wrapping him in chains unseen. “Stay with me,” she said, hoarse and needy, her condition, the same as his. “ _Please_.”

And Jaime slipped back to where he was. How could he not oblige her? How could he ever deny those deeply mesmerising eyes? He returned to where he belonged - to her arms, their lips meeting again, mating to exchange wordless promises to make this a night to remember.

“If it wasn’t for you, my lady,” he whispered into her dreamy smile, breaking the kiss just for long enough to tell her this, “I would never have known what love truly means.”

**Author's Note:**

> I was tempted to go all smutty with this, but held back ;)  
> Hope you liked it!


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